


two sisters resist the apple of discord

by multicorn



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Epistolary, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multicorn/pseuds/multicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton and Angelica may write deliciously flirtatious letters, but Angelica and Eliza, in parallel, have their own correspondence, too.</p><p>Some conversations are more difficult across the ocean.  Some are easier.  This one may actually be both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two sisters resist the apple of discord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [herowndeliverance (atheilen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheilen/gifts).



My dear Sister,

You must be careful of your husband.  Do you know what he wrote to me in his last letter?  The two of you contend, he said, for the apple that is the mark of my highest affection.  I pray that you will remember the story to which I refer: it marked the start of the war for Troy, when the Apple of Discord was rolled in among the gods and goddesses.  Do the two of you truly contest "For The Fairest?"  For I would not now or ever wish any discord among those I love most.  Pray write back to me, do not be shy, and explain how this puzzle may be played out.

Your dearest, Angelica

* * *

 

My beloved Angelica,

I have no talent for puzzles, and as you were once fond of repeating this, you know it to be true.  Nor have I any desire to enter a conflict with you, my love, both for your own sake and for mine, as I should never win.  And yet!  If you will not write to me simply, I will have to guess at your meaning.

There is no object of discord between myself and Alexander - or not a one that is present.You see, I can riddle too!Yet if you came to us it would be a balm to sooth any quarrel, and the arguments we might encircle you with in your absence would fall immediately to the charms of reunion.

Pray, make haste with your voyage, and let us prove the truth of these words.

May God be with you, and bring you to me,

Elizabeth

* * *

 

My very most dear Eliza,

Forgive me.  The ship on which I was to sail to America has departed without me, and the very storms of the ocean unite to keep apart what Nature has intended to grow together, two Sisters from one root.  I send a letter where I cannot send myself.

Oh!  I am most desolate in England, in fine company but uncertain when I will again see those whom I most love.  By which I mean to denominate: yourself, and the other half of your whole.  And so I must ask, for I must know.  What sort of affair will you greet me with, when I at last return to your shores?  I will bring you kisses, Eliza, to distribute as you see fit.  Is it too much to ask, then, in the spirit of what you know to be, an always infinite curiosity, how and by whom shall they be, and shall I be received?

I await your answer with hopeful expectations,

Angelica

* * *

 

My Angelica,

Are you mine?Or do, you think, I belong to you, as you write, 'my Eliza'?You will think me quite a philosphe, pray don't laugh, but I ask these questions in a serious mood.I have been afflicted lately with thoughts on all matter of things…  All right, I can't forbid it, you may laugh, although it pains me I am not there to hear the delight of the sound.

Now I must pose you an inquisition, since I can not answer it myself: what does it mean to possess another person?What sorts of things must pass so that one can say, truly, 'I am hers,' or, 'she is mine?'…. I speak not here of the ugly _transactional_ type of ownership, as I know that Mr. Church has bade Alexander to acquire for him a slave or two, which charge he will execute faithfully.But in the ownership of emotions, do we ask what the heart feels?Whose heart, the possessed or the possessor?Or do we ask about deeds, and if we do, what sorts of connection may suffice?Answer me this, and pray tell me, whether or not, I am your,

Eliza

* * *

 

Eliza,

I shall not venture to guess at which salutation to use for you anymore!My dear Sister - for you are still that - whether or not you are 'mine' - it seems that writing letters has done wonders for your rhetoric, and that where you once tripped over conundrums you now lay traps carefully for your correspondents.I say this with love.

I would answer your question, if I could, but in truth I do not know.Although the world pleases to say that I belong to Mr. Church - and that he belongs, though in a somewhat, lesser degree, to myself - I have never considered that I am any one's, save my own.Yourself and Peggy, too, I have always considered my own, my sisters, my dearest.As for your Alexander, it may be, that the phrase introducing the question, answers it as well.

You ask me of philosophy, and so I respond with history instead.When we were children, did I not share with you my dolls, which as the eldest I possessed the most and finest of?But you would hug your little rag doll to your chest so that I could never take it from you.

We are not children any more, but still, the bond between us has grown from that root.So I ask, and I beseech you to answer, has your answer changed?

* * *

 

My dearest Angelica,

You are far more intelligent still than any one that I know save (perhaps) one, and you cannot mean me truly to compare him to something like a doll in love.

I know merely, that I love my Family, and that as you are a very near part of it I love you, and would love for you to be near.Even if you will never consent to answer my questions, but will only compound them with more of your own, still I would wish you here.

If I say Yes, will you cease this querying cross the ocean and come to me?I will say Yes, indeed, if that is what fortune waits for to finally unite us.I will put my worries to sleep, so that I may in truth be,

your, Eliza, again.

* * *

 

My very dear Eliza,

I have never liked to worry you if I could by any means avoid it.In utter contrast, to make you happy, as you know, has always been, one of the chiefest objects of my mind.

And yet I cannot but rejoice in the tumult of desperate sentiment you have sent me.Forgive me, please.I hope with the greatest of hopes that your word is not forced, but free - and yet I have rejoiced to read it, even if all goes astray.

Very much Love, Angelica

P.s. My eloquence has flown away from me, but I know that you will understand.

I board ship for America in the morning, but I send this by mail tonight.  No more letters, I trust, will pass, until I see you again!

**Author's Note:**

> Hamilton once actually wrote:
> 
> ... My Dear Angelica ... we are all well, strongly agitated between Fear and Hope, but anxiously wishing for your Return. If you are not persuaded that this is one of the dearest objects to Eliza & myself you do us much injustice. The only rivalship we have is in our attachment to you and we each contend for preeminence in this particular. To whom will you give the apple?
> 
> and last night on tumblr herowndeliverance said:
> 
> ... we never see her [Eliza] realizing what Angelica’s sacrifice cost her, or even that it existed at all, and I *really, really* wish that had been onscreen. Did she never see it because she didn’t want to? Because Angelica hid it from her? Basically argh why couldn’t this musical have passed Bechdel?
> 
> hence this fic. I am on tumblr as multsicorn; please come chat if you wish! <3


End file.
